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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27470680">You Know What I Like About You, Macdonald?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patriceavril/pseuds/Patriceavril'>Patriceavril</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Blackdonald [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:56:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,867</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27470680</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patriceavril/pseuds/Patriceavril</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Since the start of 6th year, Sirius Black and Mary Macdonald have been spending their Wednesday afternoon free periods together, taking advantage of the empty dormitory. This is a one-shot about a conversation they have during one of these Wednesday afternoons.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sirius Black/Mary Macdonald</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Blackdonald [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2104170</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You Know What I Like About You, Macdonald?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Wednesday, March 30, 1977</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“You know what I like about you, Macdonald?” Sirius lay sprawled on his bed in a pose of complete relaxation; his eyes were only half open and his long dark hair fanned out across his pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Hmm?” Mary asked, only half-listening. She lay pressed against him with her head resting on his chest, and she absently traced the scar that began on his shoulder and extended down to be partially obscured by her wild, dark curls. She felt completely content, as if she could easily drift off to sleep if she let herself.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I like how you don’t ask me a million questions. Like that scar - you asked once, and didn’t bring it up again after I gave you my bullshit answer. What did I say, savaged by a hippogriff?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>She laughed lightly. “No, I think you said you got in a knife fight with a goblin or some such rubbish.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Right. Most girls would keep pestering me to tell the real story, but you just laughed and left it at that. I like that about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Well, I figure if you want to tell me what really happened, you will. Otherwise, it’s none of my damn business. Although, I have to say, it makes you look like a badass.” She turned her head to meet his gaze and grinned at him.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“That’s because I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> a badass,” he said, grinning back at her and brushing a lock of her hair out of his face. “Your bloody hair is everywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Sorry,” she said, making an effort to gather her mass of curls, but little tendrils kept pulling free, and she eventually gave up. Her hair always did whatever it wanted, despite her best efforts to tame it.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“‘It’s all right. Anyway, what was I saying?” He grabbed his pack of cigarettes from his bedside table andy pulled out two, lighting his own with his wand and offering the other to Mary.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Shouldn’t we open the window?” she asked, nevertheless taking the proffered cigarette and allowing him to light it for her. “Remus won’t be pleased.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I suppose,” he said, pointing his wand at the window and opening it halfway. “You’re going to be cold, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Sure enough, the early spring breeze raised goosebumps on her exposed skin almost immediately, and Sirius threw a blanket over them in amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Go on,” Mary said, taking a drag on her cigarette and feeling safe and cozy underneath the blanket. “You were talking about how great I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Right. Well, even though you have about twice the amount of hair as a normal person, I like you because you don’t try to solve my problems for me. You know that I have - what did Evans call it? - baggage, and you just accept that without trying to ‘fix’ me. I appreciate that.” He took a deep drag then blew the smoke out slowly, watching it curl up toward the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Mary thought about Sirius’s occasional bursts of anger and violence, his tendency to drown his problems in alcohol, his turbulent relationship with his family. Except for one unexpectedly frank conversation at the end of last year, they rarely spoke much about these issues; Mary did not view them as problems to be fixed, but simply acknowledged their existence as part of Sirius’s identity, like his sense of adventure and his rakish smile. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You’re not broken,” she said simply. “There’s no need to fix you. Besides, I’ve got my own share of problems, and you let me get on with them on my own without bothering me to talk about my feelings if I don’t want to.” Without having to ask, he passed her the empty Butterbeer bottle they used as an ashtray, and she tapped her ash into it before it ended up on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Sirius considered Mary’s “baggage.” She occasionally made vague references to something Mulciber had done to her last year, and though she tried to conceal it, even the merest mention brought a haunted, terrified look to her face. She also made no secret of her mother’s drinking problem, nor of her father’s complete absence from her life, and although she always followed these comments with a wry laugh, he knew her family problems affected her deeply. Yet just as Mary accepted Sirius, flaws and all, without passing judgement or offering copious amounts of advice, Sirius never pressed Mary to reveal more, nor did he attempt to explicitly comfort or protect her. In a way, he found it reassuring, because he felt they understood each other, without needing to talk about it.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“That’s true,” he said, finishing his cigarette and dropping the butt into the Butterbeer bottle. “More people should be like us, Macdonald. You hungry?” He pointed his wand at Remus’s trunk and said, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Accio chocolate!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>and a bar of Honeyduke’s chocolate soared out and into his outstretched hand. He peeled back the wrapper and popped a piece into his mouth, then offered it to Mary.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Mary accepted the chocolate, then raised her eyebrows and said, “You know, you smoke in here when he specifically asks you not to, you throw your things everywhere,” she gestured at his clothing and bag, which he had tossed unceremoniously on the floor by Remus’s bed, “and you steal his chocolate. You’re kind of a shit roommate.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah, I suppose I am. But I’m a good friend.” He took the chocolate bar from Mary’s hands and broke off another piece.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Mary remembered Sirius taking copious notes in Charms the previous week, even though he usually absorbed most of the information by simply listening, because he had been tasked with making a copy of the notes for Remus, who was too ill to come to class . She recalled Remus falling asleep in the common room last night, and Sirius had tucked a blanket around him and told off anyone who made too much noise. She thought back to Saturday night, when Sirius had thrown a birthday party for Remus and James, and helped to orchestrate a plan to get Remus alone with a girl he liked, then hours later supported him on his way up to bed when he was too drunk to stand up on his own.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah, I suppose you’re right, Black,” she conceded, smiling fondly. “And if I’m being honest, I’m not the best roommate myself.” Just this morning she had woken Lily up by dropping her bottle of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion on the ground and swearing loudly when it shattered. Last week she had woken Lily up once again when she crept into the room late one night after a rendezvous with Sirius and accidentally walked straight into her trunk in the dark. To top it all off, she frequently borrowed various items of Lily’s clothing without permission, and often forgot to return them for weeks.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah, but you’re like me - you’re a shit roommate, but a good friend,” Sirius said, lacing his fingers through Mary’s. He had seen her listen patiently countless times as Lily complained about James’s arrogance and unwanted attention. He’d watched her comfort Lily when she cried over the end of her friendship with Snape, when her relationship with her sister became even more strained, or when she was simply stressed about classes. Just the other night, Mary had shouted at a group of second years for playing an unnecessarily loud game of Exploding Snap in the common room and distracting Lily while she tried to study, swearing so profusely and looking so menacing that one of them had burst into tears. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Thanks, Black,” Mary said, closing her eyes and curling closer into Sirius’s body. She breathed in his familiar scent: cigarette smoke mingled with the cologne he always wore, with a slight hint of sweat underneath. She never felt as safe and relaxed as she did during these lazy afternoons with Sirius, and she wished she could capture this exact feeling and conjure it up whenever she felt anxious or afraid.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Hey, I don’t know if I told you, but my uncle left me a decent amount of money, so I’m getting my own flat in London this summer,” Sirius said. “You should come stay. It would be a laugh. We could get drunk, eat chocolate, walk around in our underwear - you know, basically what we do here, but with no interruptions. Plus, I’m getting a motorbike, and if you play your cards right I’ll take you for a ride.” He kept his voice casual, but he couldn’t keep the hopeful smile off his face.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah, that sounds brilliant,” she replied honestly. “Are you really getting a motorbike? Do you even know how to drive one?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It can’t be that hard,” he said nonchalantly. “I’ll figure it out. And this isn’t going to be your average motorbike, Macdonald. This one is going to fly. So if you think I’m a badass now, just wait till you see me on a flying motorbike.” He rolled onto his side and pulled her closer to him, tugging the blanket up so it almost obscured their faces.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We should probably get up soon, shouldn’t we?” Mary asked reluctantly, wanting nothing more than to continue to lay here all evening.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Nah,” Sirius said. “Let’s just sleep for a bit. They’ll wake us up before dinner.” He fell silent for a minute, and Mary assumed he had fallen asleep and almost drifted off herself before he spoke again.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You know, if you ever did want to talk to me about anything, you know you can, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It took her a moment to wrap her sleepy brain around what he had said. “Yeah, I know,” she said with a bemused smile.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Good. ‘Cause I’m a good listener. Especially when I’m drunk or I’ve just been shagged senseless.” He tugged one of her curls playfully.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Black. And you know, you can talk to me, too, if you want.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it before pulling his arm firmly around her and under the blanket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” He kissed the top of her head, then sighed and closed his eyes. He had the feeling he wanted to say something else, but couldn’t put it into words, so he said simply, “Night, Macdonald.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Night, Black,” she replied, closing her eyes and replaying their conversation in her head. This “arrangement,” as they called it, had been going on since the beginning of the year: they spent every Wednesday afternoon together, since they had a free period and everyone else had class, leaving the dormitory empty. They also spent a fair amount of other evenings together, but they had both agreed this was a no strings attached situation, and besides today they rarely had such meaningful, serious conversations. It was unexpected, yet it felt natural, somehow. A vague, half-formed thought tugged at the back of her mind, but it remained elusive, and rather than trying to put a name to it, she simply let herself relax. She drifted off to sleep, enjoying the feeling of total contentment, although she knew they would be awakened within an hour by loud pounding at the door. For now, she was exactly where she wanted to be.</span>
</p>
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